The Deck
by At A Venture
Summary: A delicious variety of smut, dedicated to my wonderful SVM readers! ESN, slash, femslash, etc. Something for everyone!
1. The Querent

**The Deck**

_Author's Notes:_

_The tarot deck is a rather infamous deck of card in the English-speaking world. Though these decks are similar to any other deck of cards in most of Europe, some people used them to see the world beyond. In this case, I'm using the tarot deck to tell stories, fantasy stories. Consider this series of unrelated short stories to be AAV's Big Deck of Smut. Each story will be 1500 words or less! I plan to use as many different pairings as I can think of, so I'll try not to exclude anyone! _

_I've written far too much angst already this summer (and it's only just begun!). Because I probably won't have time to write while I'm working this year (I'm a teacher and I work really looooong hours), I thought I would leave you, my readers, with something to remember me by (until the next time I can come back to you!). Whichever story becomes your favorite, consider it dedicated to you. I love my SVM readers. You guys rock the most. :D_

_Enjoy!_

_-AAV/Ataventure_


	2. Strength

**Strength**

_A/N: The Strength card is one of discipline and control. It is often associated with the holding back of one's lust. _

I glanced out the front window as I took another bite of cantaloupe from the bowl. A few drops of juice rolled over my bottom lip, dribbled over my chin, and fell onto the skin pooling out of the top of my tank top. I brushed the drops away thoughtlessly, along with the beads of sweat collecting on my chest. It was late July in Louisiana, and already the weather men were saying that this was one of our hottest on record. I groaned audibly and ate another bite of fruit, savoring the cold flesh on my tongue. I'd cut it up last night, at about three in the morning, and put it away knowing that by afternoon, it would be as blissfully refreshing as a cup of vanilla ice cream. As luck would have it, every freezer in Bon Temps was out of my favorite vanilla bean frozen yogurt. I was desperate for it, but this would have to do for now.

I caught her movement out in the garden, and at first, I couldn't believe it. Sookie had told me that this was the day. This was the day she was going to attack the pile of woodchips that had been sitting in her garden since March. But she couldn't be serious, could she? I stole a glance at the muted television set. The temperatures were scrolling across the bottom half of the screen while the national forecaster explained, in sweeping arm gestures, that the entire Southern half of the country was caught up in the worst drought on record. Damn global warming. According to the TV, it was a sweltering ninety-eight degrees outside, plus 100% humidity.

"Like living in someone's mouth," I gasped, setting down the bowl of cantaloupe.

Yet there she was, Sookie Stackhouse, telepathic waitress, vampire lover, and crazy, crazy lady, shoveling woodchips on a Saturday afternoon. How long had she been out there? It was past lunch-time but I hadn't heard her come in. I'd finally given up on studying magic upstairs. The air conditioner was broken and the heat radiated up the stairs like the waves of some nuclear bomb. It had gotten so stuffy that my head started feeling light as a cloud. Probably not the best thing for me to stay up there, right? So I abandoned my books.

I walked out on the porch to call her in. She was going to drop dead if she stayed out there much longer. The screen door banged closed against the frame and I waved an arm half-heartedly under the shade of the porch. I hadn't gotten a good look at her from the house, but now I could really see her. If I'd been holding the bowl of fruit, it would have fumbled out of my hand and onto the floor.

Sookie's hair was pulled back behind her head in a haphazard bun. The shorter pieces had flown free of their binding and plastered themselves to her neck in little blond waves. Because it was so deathly hot out, she'd skipped a tee shirt for a sports bra. I'd only seen her wear it once or twice, usually when I caught her doing one of those work out tapes on her day off. It was a black piece, pretty flattering for an article of clothing meant to conquer one's breasts without actually using duct tape. With the bra, she wore a pair of very short denim cutoffs, ankle socks, and Keds.

Sweat gleamed on her shoulders and back, making her whole body sparkle in the sunlight. The tan she'd been working on since May gave her the appearance of a Brazilian sun goddess, glistening and perfect. She leaned over the handle of her shovel, her latex-dipped gardening gloves tucked into one hand. The pile of woodchips was getting smaller, but she hadn't quite reached the end. I leaned one hand on the porch railing and watched her. So she stood out there a little longer. She was doing fine.

Sookie pulled her gloves back on and retrieved her shovel. Placing her hands along the shaft of the tool, she bent down at the knee and thrust the blade into the wood pile. Her biceps flexed as she heaved the chips into her wheelbarrow. A drop of sweat picked up the sun and glinted like a diamond as it floated down her spine and melted into the rolled waistband of her jeans. Twice more, she bent to get a load of wood and drop it into the wheelbarrow. I marveled at her strength, her lithe musculature, her determined face.

Stabbing the smaller wood pile with her shovel, she carried the wheelbarrow over to her grandmother's rose garden. Again with the shovel, she scooped up woodchips and scattered them around the flowers. Her arm brushed roughly against one of the thorny stalks and she pulled back suddenly with a brief yelp. I found myself leaning over the porch with the intention to rescue her. Sookie simply brushed her gloved hand over the scratches, spreading a few flecks of blood on her creamy brown skin.

Back and forth to the woodpile, I watched her move. Her long slender legs, defined by strong calves, sparkled as they caught the light. Sookie was a fan of the tanning oil, no matter how often I mentioned the big C to her. That stuff wasn't important right now. Right now, I was ready to run out to the store and buy her a lifetime supply of the stuff.

Sookie bent to the ground, pulling her knees together, arching her heels. She picked up a bottle of water and let her gloves fall off again. The water was perspiring with condensation. Sookie pulled off the cap and poured the water into her mouth. Droplets rolled out of the sides of her mouth and followed the curve of her neck and shoulder. When she'd quenched her thirst, she poured a bit more of the water down her brassiere, dampening and cooling her bosom. The nipples stood at attention immediately, clearly as thirsty as the rest of her.

"Hey!" A voice yelled sharply, yanking me away from Sookie's beautiful figure. I looked up to see Jason Stackhouse, his eyebrow raised curiously.

"Jason?" I asked. My voice was raw, my throat dry.

"I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes! What are you looking at?" Jason whirled his head around, but his eyes grazed past Sookie. She didn't warrant that kind of attention.

"Huh?"

"Is that Sookie out there?" Jason blinked.

"What?" I asked defensively. "No!"

"Uh, yeah it is. Who else would it be?" Jason blinked at me like I was crazy.

"I, um, left the stove on." I scrambled back into the house and slammed the screen door.

In the back of my head, she was still working, her eyes turning to me as I walked toward her with a glass of lemonade. She smiled at me, her eyes half-lidded, her lips slightly parted as she exhaled. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily. She took the lemonade from me and smiled her thanks, pressing the glass to her lower lip. The ice cubes clinked as she swallowed the drink in one gulp, her head tilted back, her hair pulling against its tie. More rivulets of sweat rolled down from the clean knobs of her collarbone to the swelling breast trapped inside her sports top.

"Are you sure you're okay out here?" I touched her arm, feeling the flexing of her triceps under her taut bronze skin.

"Mm, yes," she replied smoothly.

"Why didn't you ask Jason or Eric or Sam or someone?"

"Who needs them?" She winked at me, a wink that was subtle and pregnant with meaning.

"Do you want to take a break?" I gestured behind me to the farmhouse. "We could go inside. I could fix you something to eat."

"Actually, I'm really thirsty, Amelia," she murmured, her full lips slightly puckered. "Do you have anything else to drink?"

**The End.**


	3. The Emperor

**The Emperor**

_A/N: The Emperor card is one of many meanings. Sometimes he is the thing we must overcome, the father figure that we have outgrown. Other times, he is the exterior force we must accommodate. He is a dictator. _

"Come in," I said, inviting his entry. His face did not easily hide his emotions, and I wondered if it ever had. Funny. In the world in which he was raised, it would make sense to establish one's poker face. Anger smoldered in his dark brown eyes, rippled across his sneering upper lip. I pushed back my desk chair and got to my feet.

"Eric," he growled, practically murdering me with his words.

"Bill," I laughed, mocking his intensity.

"What do you want?" Grr. Argh. Drama drama. Blah blah.

"Bill Compton, is that any way to address your elders? Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

"Your call interrupted me," he grumbled.

"Ah, I see. You were in the middle of wooing your new playmate and I…what's that expression? I cock-blocked you." I could help but laughing. Modern English was, at times, so profoundly direct.

"I…" Bill started, meaning to lie to me about his obvious intentions with the Bon Temps waitress. Even on the drive over here, he had had difficulty suppressing his erection. It was quite buoyant in his khaki slacks.

"Do not bother with your fibs, Compton. I am not a fool. Either you are excited to see me, which I am certain you are, or you are excited by that tease of a human."

"Do not refer to her that way!" So, chivalry isn't dead. Cute.

"So you do not deny that you are pleased to see me, Bill?" I smirked at him.

"I am never pleased to see you, Eric," Bill muttered coldly.

"Liar," I grinned.

I came around the desk to lean lazily against it. Crossing one leg over the other, I pressed one palm into each side of the table. His cock twitched decisively in his pants, a movement that wasn't difficult to notice. Even a human would have seen it.

"What did you call me here for?" Bill groaned, trying to mask his apparent discomfort. His precious Sookie was probably waiting in the bar, every vampire eye doting on her innocence.

"I wanted to see you," I replied.

"For what?" Such anger!

"We have not seen each other in so long, William. Come here."

Bill walked closer to me, unable to defy my instruction. The vampire world was one built on manners, orders, and hierarchy. We had all been the victims of our lords.

"I want to fuck you," I said simply, my smile never leaving my face.

"Sookie is waiting in the bar," Bill protested.

"We could invite her in. I could fuck her instead. You could watch." I shrugged.

"No." Was he jealous? Protective? Not once did he come off with that tired old claim of ownership.

"We best not keep her waiting then," I suggested thoughtfully.

* * *

Sookie lifted her eyes to the office door. The thud against it was so loud that hers was not the only face that turned. Pam's smile drifted across her face as she played with the glass on the table.

"What was that?" Sookie asked, moving to stand. Maybe Bill was in trouble. Maybe she could go in there and see. Check things out.

"Sometimes men feel the need to get a little physical," Pam suggested, waving off the instance carelessly. "It's nothing."

"I don't see why Eric couldn't have just called. We were in the middle of…" Sookie blushed.

"When your sheriff calls," Pam smiled, "you have to come."

**The End. **


End file.
